


The Patron

by Pangaea



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Brothels, Frottage, M/M, Master/Slave, Mirror Universe, Snowballing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-05
Updated: 2013-07-05
Packaged: 2017-12-17 18:45:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/870800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pangaea/pseuds/Pangaea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slavery/Mirror verse AU, where Spock has been sold to a brothel . . . and Kirk has become smitten enough to purchase the Vulcan's company exclusively.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Patron

**Author's Note:**

> Illustrations for this fic here-->http://princessofswordsart.tumblr.com/post/54667999349/more-slavery-au-fic-because-thats-how-i-roll

Captain James Kirk of the ISS Enterprise wove his way through the crowded streets. Past smoking meat stands, shops with the scarlet shades pulled low, and down narrow alleyways to the perfectly square, unadorned building perched on the edge of the waterfront. The House of the Two-Headed Dragon was a very old, and very discreet den. It was far enough away from the brothel district of this small planet that even many of the local residents were unaware of its inhabitants. It was also unique in that it specialized in exclusively male courtesans: exotically beautiful and skilled humanoids from across the stars. But like most of the bordello residents all over the galaxy, many were present against their own choosing.

Such was the case of the only subject of the captain’s thoughts. A being he had never dreamed of meeting before: a young male Vulcan. More approximately, he later learned from said being, half-Vulcan, half-Human…. an exotic creature indeed.

The night Kirk had first seen the Vulcan he had been onstage performing with an Andorian. Kirk supposed the brothel paired them because of their long hair, and the exotic contrasts of the fine silver white and glistening ebony, along with the image of jewel blue flesh grasped by pale, spidery hands. Both male species possess the ability to self-lubricate their erect genitals, and the two slid together belly to belly, spreading the glittering strands between them, as their mouths fused and parted and melted together again and again.

The Vulcan had eventually broken the languid kiss and pushed the Andorian onto his stomach, blue ass in the air as he was taken. Kirk had watched the display, cock stiff between his crossed knees. As the Vulcan pulled out and spent himself on the cerulean back, Kirk decided he had to have this fascinating alien for his partner tonight. He called the attendant over and made this carnal intention quite clear.

At that time in his life Kirk had very recently succeeded in dispatching the former chief authority of the Enterprise, Christopher Pike. The newly ranked Captain was burning with a fresh sense of might and triumph.

The first round of sex in the creature’s private rooms had been fast and rough, Kirk taking him in the same fashion that the Vulcan had ridden the Andorian onstage; with the exception that Kirk had remained firmly inside the engulfing orifice, pumping his seed. It was after he had pulled out and collapsed onto the immense, plush bed that he looked over at his consort, realizing that the Vulcan hadn’t achieved orgasm . . . that Kirk hadn’t considered his pleasure at all.

Kirk urged him onto his back. Taking a moment to process the flushed jade head, almost forest deep at the slit, the twin ridges and the pearl-wet shaft, he had taken the strange prick in his hand. He stripped the member from root to tip, causing the alien to arch his neck, part his legs and tilt into the enticing grip. His eyes had widened in surprise when Kirk swung his thighs over the hips and determinedly lined them both up.

Professionalism had soon taken over, and the supine Vulcan assisted the human as Kirk pushed himself down the slick organ. He ground against the cradle of his lap, moaning hungrily and pounding down hard, as though trying to fit more of the cock inside him. Their eyes had met and the alien knew what this forceful human was craving. With a hard grip and quick move he reversed their positions with Kirk flat on his back. He immediately clutched at the Vulcan’s shoulders, locking his feet over the thrusting ass and sank his teeth into the meat above his clavicle. The Vulcan did not cry out, or falter in his hard rhythm, even as verdant blood rolled down his skin.

 

*****

 

“What is your name?” Kirk had asked. The Vulcan had eventually pulled out and ejaculated across his stomach. He was currently cleaning Kirk of sweat and viridescent semen with a cool wet cloth. He looked up from his duty, and in a rich voice Kirk was not expecting, he answered, “Spock. I am Spock.”

 

*****

 

Immensely pleased with the Vulcan’s dual passivity and aggressiveness, Kirk had paid him a second visit before his leave was over. By the third visit they had eased into a fragile amicability with each other. Kirk had quickly recognized the Vulcan’s skills, both in bed and out of it. They began to share the fragments of their lives with each other. Spock had been the head of a research team of Vulcan scientists, consisting of four males and one female. They had been on their way to survey a dwarf moon, but their small scouting ship had been no match for the slaver’s behemoth that ambushed them. The Vulcans were eventually subdued after an outnumbered fight, and the five were quickly separated and dispersed.

There had been a young acolyte of Spock’s, a male named Saverrin. He had been brought to the House just the same as Spock. But his low age and stunning sharp features had earned him many admirers, and within three months of his and Spock’s arrival, he had been purchased from the House for an exorbitant sum.

What Spock omitted from Kirk was that he had been made to perform onstage with Saverrin on a regular basis. And that the man who bought Saverrin had originally requested the Vulcans as a pair, but the Mistress of the House had refused to sell both of them. A genuine magnetism had been forming between Spock and Saverrin long before they had been captured. Having him ripped utterly from Spock’s life had left him in a state of grief and agony he had never thought possible.

 

*****

 

During Kirk’s fourth visit several months later he saw the cuts and bruises. The deep turquoise blossoms on the insides of Spock’s thighs, and his slim hips, were just the right size so that there was no doubt cruelly gripping hands had caused them. There were scabbing nail scratches and fading green teeth marks on the Vulcan’s flesh that brought ice to the captain’s heart.

True, he had drawn blood on their first night, but the thought of Spock in the hands of others . . . Kirk found himself disturbed at the idea of this being handled so callously, and the fact that he actually cared bothered him more.

Kirk was personally wealthy from his missions of plunder and intimidation. Even though his visits were sometimes months apart, Kirk wasted no time in making an arrangement with the Mistress of the House, a bulbous insect-eyed creature named Jynik, and becoming Spock’s Patron. He agreed to pay a stipend each month to ensure that he was the Vulcan’s exclusive sexual partner. Spock was still made to participate in the performances, but only as an aggressor. He also continued his personal act of artfully stripping out of his Shi’Kahrian robes and playing a Vulcan lyre while seated nude on silken cushions, providing song to the muscled youths writhing against each other onstage.

Soon a year of somewhat frequent, quasi-regular visits had built between the human and the Vulcan. Fortunately the House was not tucked away in the far reaches of the universe, and it was not difficult for Kirk to travel while on leave or on a mission in the quadrant.

 

*****

 

Shaking himself from his reverie Kirk pushed through the House’s plain doors and let himself into the main room. It was late afternoon so the House was practically empty. The center stage was bare, and legitimate employees readied the space for the rush later in the evening. He walked across the room and up the main staircase to the second floor, where he made his way to Spock’s door and casually cracked it open.

The first thing that hit him was the aroma. An overwhelming fog of incense hung thick and stung his eyes. He swiped at the air with his hand and peered around the anteroom. Empty. He moved deeper into the room. Through a doorway was the large bedroom. Kirk began to call Spock’s name, but the words died halfway out his lips when he saw the kneeling figure on the floor.

The Vulcan looked wild. His hair tumbled over his shoulders and obscured his face. The textured robe that hung open about his torso was a fierce emerald green, his people’s color for passion. Beneath was a second robe, equally loose and made of a warm, bone colored silk. The disheveled garb was appealing, but Kirk saw that the robes lacked a certain intricacy in their texture and patterns. They looked dull…. no, comfortable was the proper word. It was a powerful visual contrast to the usual waxed ebony hair, and the opalescent blacks and churning scarlets of the dragons and alien flowers that wove their way over the Vulcan’s typical garments.

Absorbed in his meditations, Spock was on his knees bowed low before a statue of a felinesque creature. One of its paws was raised in benevolent blessing, while Spock’s fingers were twisted together in prayer. The room was choked with the scent of exotic incense; ghost ribbons wove their way from the statue’s feet to the captain and past him to slip through the still open door. Feeling ignored, Kirk shut the door more forcefully then he had to, breaking the spell and announcing his presence to the Vulcan.

Spock’s whole body straightened and his eyes flew open. They looked sore, ringed with bruise-green. His unfocused gaze searched the dim room, until he settled on Kirk. His vision cleared and he truly saw the human standing with his hands on his hips, his hazel eyes hard with impatience and puzzlement.

“James . . .” Spock gasped softly.

“Did you forget about me?” Kirk asked, stalking closer.

Spock rose fluidly to his feet, doing a poor job of pulling the simple robes around his shoulders. Kirk tried to maintain his intense air but was having trouble focusing on his irritation, as the disheveled alien looked more ravishing to him now than he ever had.

“I did not forget. I merely miscalculated the time of your arrival,” Spock attempted to amend.

“As you have so frequently reminded me over this past year, Mr. Spock, Vulcans don’t make miscalculations.”

Spock moved close to the captain, keeping his face an immovable mask. It betrayed nothing, and frustrated Kirk further. But Kirk saw how his cheeks were flushed sage, and his lips swollen as though he had chewed on them. Damn, Kirk got lost on the parted orifice. He licked his lips in a partly nervous gesture, then looked back up to Spock’s eyes, where the Vulcan’s gaze had sharpened into something predatory, having seen the way Kirk watched his mouth.

Spock stepped up to wrap his hands about Kirk’s waist. “You are here, that is all matters, Captain.”

Kirk couldn’t help but grin at the affectionate tone of the title, and Spock hungrily closed the space between their lips. The kiss quickly turned animalistic. It was as though each felt they had something to prove to the other, with Kirk suspecting something was very wrong, and Spock trying to distract him through his libido.

It appeared to be working, as Kirk slipped his hands beneath the disheveled robe. His fingers combing through the dense hair on the Vulcan’s chest, coming to rest against the smooth skin of his ribs while running his thumbs repeatedly over the sensitive olive-tinged nipples. Spock released a sigh and titled his head back, offering the white column of his throat to this man who gladly accepted the supplication with lips and teeth and tongue. They stood there for long moments, with Kirk feasting on the feel and taste of Spock’s flesh with the Vulcan clutching his arms and melting over the physical sensations racking his body. He shuddered when Kirk dug fingers into his hair and closed teeth over a tender lobe.

Spock seemed to reach a decision as he began tugging on Kirk, walking them backwards towards the immense bed. His robes had come completely open.

Kirk broke his ministrations to pull back and admire the neat body, the swirling hair trailing down the tight belly to the straining erection. A pink tongue slid over smiling lips, and he would have reached for the other man’s cock, if Spock had not tilted his chin back up to the Vulcan’s own seeking mouth.

He was pushing Kirk back, pressing him into the mass of pillows at the head of the bed. Through the haze of desire he recalled that Spock had once informed him that he only supplied the bed with pillows for his clients’ benefit. He had told Kirk that when he slept alone he did so with a small pillow to the back of the head, like the geishas of antique Terra. If there were pillows on the bed, and he had “miscalculated” Kirk’s arrival…

His thoughts slammed to a halt as Spock’s hands moved quickly. There was a green flash as he seized the human’s wrists in his free hand. Kirk was astonished to realize that with barely breaking their kiss Spock had secured his hands to the intricate headboard of the bed with the emerald robe sash. 

Confusion and panic sharpened the human’s awareness. A myriad of thoughts ran through his mind: had Spock betrayed him to one of his enemies? Was the Vulcan planning on murdering him? They had never used restraints before, and Spock had never acted this oddly.

He wrenched his face away from Spock’s to stare into his eyes, and the last thing he expected to see in the brown depths was a melancholy so acute it frightened Kirk more than the scenarios he had just been contemplating.

Warily scowling, his body still thrumming with fear and lust, Kirk rumbled, “What the Hell do you think you’re doing?”

He struggled for a moment, but in a display of his alien strength that the Vulcan had never utilized on him before, Spock held down the thrashing hips. He stilled and fingers circled the back of the human’s neck.

Spock kissed him with more tenderness than either of them had ever given. The large hand roamed south to the tie of the Kirk’s black tunic. “I would assume my actions reflect my intentions, James.” The fabric was spread to reveal the smooth, heaving torso.

Kirk moaned as Spock laved at the hardening nipples with his rough tongue. Unhurriedly, he moved further down with burning kisses until he was nosing at the straining bulge. Deciding Spock was too gentle, Kirk dug his boot-heels into the sheets and raised his pelvis against his lover’s face. Tugging on his bound hands, he growled, “Touch me.”

Spock complied; releasing the fly, he peeled the black pants off Kirk’s legs so that only his boots remained. Kirk’s breath came is short gasps as he felt the molten, pebbly slide of the tongue against his aching cock. He cried out loud when he was entirely engulfed in the wet heat, his hips rising and falling to bury himself deeper into the talented mouth.

He would’ve been content to forget his suspicions and spend his seed down the hot throat, but the sucking pressure was suddenly removed. Kirk watched Spock settle between his thighs, positioning himself so that the erect cock hovered over Kirk’s.

The Vulcan’s natural lubrication dripped like honey from the double-ridged head and down the shaft. Spock rose on his knees. Bracing himself with one hand firmly on the bed he aligned the slick cock alongside the flushed rose of Kirk’s.

“Oh gods . . .” Kirk moaned at the sliding heat. He spread his legs further and met Spock as he slowly thrust his hips, pressing as much of his flesh against the human as he could, until both of their groins and bellies were gleaming with his fluids.

Kirk felt the wetness running between his buttocks and dimly wondered if the Vulcan was planning on penetrating him. Instead, he was shocked into stillness as Spock enclosed both of their lubricated members in a tight, slippery grip. He pleasured them from root to head, his speed and firmness increasing, while Kirk writhed and panted beneath him. He snarled and stretched, his body taught as a bow, yanking on the sash as they pistoned their hips together, moving towards their inevitable climaxes.

“James….” Spock sighed, blushing all the way up to his ear tips.

Kirk wrapped his legs around Spock’s thrashing hips and the Vulcan’s control faltered. With a cry ripping from him, he spilled his seed. The feel of the pulsing organ held tight against his triggered Kirk’s own violent release. Shots of creamy human semen landed to mingle with the gelatinous Vulcan’s across Kirk’s sweat-glistened form.

Kirk melted with his release, but a sharp, lustful pang jabbed at his depleting genitals as he watched Spock bend and lick Kirk clean of their most intimate fluids. He lapped at it like a thirsty desert animal and when he finished, he moved toward Kirk’s parted mouth. With an intense gaze that dared Kirk to question him he pressed his lips against the human’s, parting them to push his sticky wet tongue into the captain’s mouth, sharing with him the evidence of their spent passions. Kirk reveled in the salty-sweet taste; he had to admit it was the single most erotic act he had ever been a part of.

Spock pulled back and settled, propped on his left elbow, gazing down at his captive’s body.

“Planning on doing anything more?” Kirk softly rasped, “or are you going to untie me now?”

Spock met his eyes and stated smugly, “I rather enjoyed your struggles, and I believe you did as well,” he added, tweaking a pink nipple. 

“Uhhh . . .Well, at least, oh!,” as Spock worried at it with his teeth, “give me a chance to reciprocate….”

Continuing to gnaw at the erect nub, Spock reached up and undid the knot, letting Kirk slide his wrists free. The human tilted his mouth in offering and Spock acquiesced. They rolled together, kissing until Spock was flat on his back, running large hands under the open tunic, down the smooth back to grasp at the muscled buttocks.

With a quick movement, Kirk clamped his legs hard on either side of the Vulcan’s hips and held the emerald robe sash in his fists, pressing down a tight strip against Spock’s throat. He fought to keep from quivering, exerting all his force to hold the stronger being in place. It wasn’t an overtly aggressive gesture, merely one made to reassure the human’s sense of dominance.

Spock regarded him with a small degree of wariness in his deep eyes. He waited for the captain to make his next move.

“I knew something was wrong the second I saw you. But I was too busy thinking with my dick to immediately call you on it… Tell me what’s bothering you,” he demanded, feeling foolish for asking such an intimate question while threatening to choke a man.

Spock’s eyes fell away from his and he said, “It is none of your concern.”

Kirk considered that probably was true. Why was he suddenly so invested in Spock’s well-being? He then realized he had been all along, beginning with having Spock all to himself, paying so no one else would fuck this Vulcan. His Vulcan. Because it had hurt him to see Spock abused by others. Afterwards, Kirk had taken the effort to get to know this man, to understand his desires both in and, eventually, out of bed. He had felt no fear from this caged bird, because he knew the stoic yet passionate creature would never betray his confidence.

Kirk realized that he cared.

The captain swallowed. Relaxing his hold on the sash he admitted, “I’d want to know if something was hurting you,” and refused to reveal any more.

Spock answered, “You speak so confidently. If there were something wrong would you try to stop it? What if there were nothing you could do to prevent it?”

Kirk only stared, now only more curious and infuriated. His hands relaxed from the Vulcan’s throat, and softly rested on Spock’s shoulders. He found the strength to calmly appeal, “Tell me.”

Spock turned his head to the other side of the room, remaining silent for long moments. Kirk was about to give up Spock answering when the deep voice quietly began.

“Last night, a Vulcan woman came with her two guards. I was performing on my lyre and she set her appetites on me. As you know, I am the only Vulcan in this house.”

He finally looked at Kirk, who sat listening intently.

“Jynik tried to explain to them that I was spoken for, that I had a Patron and was not to engage in sexual acts with another. The woman gave her a jewel the size of a large grape, and they were led to my rooms.”

Kirk listened to the whole account of how the woman had indulged herself with Spock in a diversity of positions, for it was what she had paid for. Her guards had been content to sit back and watch, stroking themselves through the fabric of their trousers. They were not unfamiliar with their mistress’ habits. After a while, with Spock still inside her, she had called one of them over and begun sucking on his prick. After Spock and the other male had climaxed, the women, Vorah, had reclined into the pillows and ordered Spock to bring her second escort to release with his mouth. Spock had insisted on keeping his honor to his Patron. But the unsatisfied guard had seized his long hair and snarled,

“Kafeh, you will do as you are told.”

Spock finished his story by glossing over the more heinous details of the guards taking turns with him. “She told me that she enjoyed my performances so much that she planned to buy me from the House.”

“When – ” Kirk cleared his bone-dry throat, “When does she intend to collect you?”

“In four hours,” Spock answered without a twitch.  
Kirk sat slowly back on his heels, eyes staring vacantly over Spock’s head.

The Vulcan kept talking, seemingly unable to stop the long pent-up torrent of words. “These events have obviously caused me great distress. I have no desire to be taken by her… taken away from you.

“Earlier, when you entered, I was praying, begging for salvation… to be taken away some how. James, I want…” Spock bit his lip, the words jamming in his throat, “I want never to be parted from you.”

His eyes flickered from Kirk’s drying belly, then back up to the hard golden eyes. Kirk stared levelly at the man, unblinking. It was a brave and dangerous declaration to make, and the baldness of it made Kirk lose the tenuous hold on his fierce visage.

He slid off the bed and turned away from Spock, gazing absently about the room as he twisted the sash in his hands. Losing Spock, never seeing Spock again… it was out of the question, painful to consider if he was forced to be honest. But… taking Spock with him? Onboard the Enterprise… Even if he was sure he wanted to, how?

He knew that there was a deflector shield over the House to prevent sentimental beam outs of the residents. Each concubine was also equipped with a ribbon thin collar complete with tracking devices, both to prevent exactly what he was contemplating. Jynik had taken great care to prevent the loss of her investments.

Plus, for a deeper and more selfish reason: Kirk had always taken care to hide his homosexual practices from his crew… making public displays with female companions, even going so far as to move one of them into his quarters. This would announce to his crew, his woman, and most of the Empire that James Kirk loved a man.

Love?

Where had that thought come from? Something black inside Kirk snarled, and caused him to sharply turn his head aside. He looked back at Spock, sitting up on the bed, his eyes still beseeching, silent from his earlier declaration to the human. Quite suddenly, Kirk decided the Vulcan looked pathetic to him. “And you were hoping I’d take you with me?” he said, soft and deadly.

Instantly Spock’s face closed, along with whatever connection they had between them. 

“Obviously not,” Spock answered coolly, “as I assume I am nothing to you.”

Kirk started, “That’s not true . . .I… !” he stopped, chilled to the bone by the Vulcan’s granite features.

“But it is,” Spock dryly finished for him.

“It’s not that simple… nothing I want ever is….” Kirk whispered, unsure if he was speaking only to himself.

“It was a mistake to make such an absurd confession.” Spock stood, snatching the tie from Kirk’s lax fingers and tightly binding the robes over his body.

Kirk felt frozen, his throat tight with anger, fear and desperation.

Spock met his eyes, “Leave me,” was all he said.

Jaw clenched, Kirk founds his pants and yanked them on. He turned sharp on his heel and stormed from the room, not daring to look back even once.

Behind him Spock’s knees buckled, and he came down hard on the bed as his eyes bored into the back of the retreating captain.

 

*****

 

Hours later, Spock was bathed and dressed, his few personal possessions in a small trunk by his feet. Jynik, along with Vorah and her two guards were circling him, but Spock barely felt their presences. He regarded Jynik with a thousand yard stare as she deactivated the tracking ribbon on his neck. It was swiftly replaced with a metal collar by Vorah’s own hand, with a short chain trailing from it.

Spock addressed her, “Is this absolutely, necessary?”

With a tug she answered, “No, but I find your forced subservience highly arousing.” She led the three men outside and stood the correct distance from the House to be in range for a beam up to her waiting ship. She sent the signal from a communicator strapped to her wrist and Spock closed his eyes as the shimmering light engulfed them all and they vanished from the site of his torment into a fresh new Hell.

Spock kept his lids shut tight throughout the beaming process. So he was amazed at the rolling resonance of a heavily accented human instructing him,

“Ah, ye can open yer eyes now…”

An unexpected, bright world blinked into existence. He was alone on a silver transportation pad. Adorning the walls was a daunting image of the planet Earth skewered on a sword. In front of him a thickly built man spoke into an intercom, “We got ‘im, Captain.”

“Have him brought to my quarters, Scotty,” came the tinny response.

“Aye,” he straightened up, “Come with me, Mister…?”

Spock, who had been frozen solid since opening his eyes, could only continue to stare. The human narrowed his eyes and beckoned again sharply. “Come on, yer alright…”

 

*****

 

Spock was eventually led to a door on the fifth deck of the craft he was on, ten minutes beyond the shadow of a doubt that this was not the Vulcan woman’s ship. The door swooshed open and he entered alone, the human escort stepping back and out of Spock’s awareness.

The room was dim, to his left there appeared to be an office area, to his right, sleeping quarters. Out this area came an all too familiar form. Kirk, dressed immaculately in a gold bolero with rank badges studding his broad chest. He positively swaggered towards Spock, grinning like a wicked creature pleased with himself.

“You intercepted her transporters,” Spock stated flatly.

Kirk smiled with his eyes and moved forward. Spock tried to turn to stone.

“And… ” Kirk began, “we are headed in the direction of Get the Hell Out of Here at warp three.”

Casting his eyes downward, avoiding the golden gaze, Spock demanded, “What am I to you now, Captain?”

Kirk took the final step into the Vulcan’s space, and placed his hands on each shoulder. Sliding them towards Spock’s neck, he revealed a small silver device wrapped in his fingers. Before Spock could flinch Kirk pressed one end of the object against the slave collar, slicing the metal with a small laser blade, causing the shackle to thump in two pieces on the floor.

“No more chains….” Kirk pulled the stiff body to him, and mouthed the newly unburdened neck. His hands held Spock’s arms firmly, but his lips explored the flesh as though it were sacred, with lingering kisses all along his neck and throat, venturing no higher than the tilting jaw. He pulled back a little, but continued to clench the biceps in his grip. 

Kirk felt his whole core melt as he averted his eyes, and quietly confessed, “I want never to be parted from you either, Spock.”

Spock allowed himself to relax a fraction. He was overjoyed, but wildly skeptical. 

“A sudden human change of heart?” Spock asked with a slight degree of ice.

Kirk looked him straight in the eye and answered, “All I am sure of is what I just told you. It’s all I can promise you at this moment. You are here, that’s all that matters.”

“What will I do on this ship?” Spock sounded genuinely concerned.

Kirk smiled, “We both know you’re a genius, Mr. Spock, I know we can find ways to keep that mind of yours busy. Also…. our current science officer was recently…. devoured.”

Spock’s eyebrows soared into his bangs as Kirk grinned nervously and nodded. “That position seems agreeable,” Spock admitted, remembering to ask for the story of the late science officer another time.

Feeling embarrassed at the thin innuendo, but unable to resist, Kirk added, “And are there other positions that seem agreeable to you?” He cocked his hip against the Vulcan’s.

Spock’s granite face did not betray the lust Kirk saw growing in the brown eyes. After a silent moment, Spock looked down, fluttering his lashes and tilting his head in surrender. Kirk, knowing he had won, moved his mouth close to Spock’s.

“Will you kiss me?” he whispered.

Spock closed the space between them without hesitation. The first hesitant touch of their lips dissolved as Spock pushed Kirk with such force that he backed the human against the grill of the divider wall. As the two men writhed and clawed at each other they both knew that this was a foundation. Not just a start to this session of fierce love-making, but of something more durable and lasting than the desire to get each other off.

Only time would tell how hard each of these men would fight to stay together…


End file.
